Little Knife
by Tonight's The Night
Summary: "The most versatile knives are made not of steel, but of flesh and blood." Balthier and Fran infiltrate the royal palace in search of treasure, but instead find a young thief with all the makings of a good knife. Oneshot.


Little Knife

In Balthier's estimation, the most valuable tool a sky pirate could ever hope to get their hands on was a good knife.

Not a literal knife, although their versatility did make them useful. They could perform a great number of tasks, from frosting a cake to stabbing an enemy. They could be used to pry open vents, tear through various materials, clean a kill. Even Balthier, known for his preference of guns and other rare weapons, carried half a dozen knives at any given moment: serrated, short, long, double-sided, multipurpose. They all had their uses. But the most versatile blade of all was made not from steel and leather, but flesh and blood.

Balthier knelt in front of a wooden vent cover, peering into the corridor beyond. Behind him, Fran ran a piece of cloth along her bow, polishing it to a shining finish. She had a keen mind, and her skills in combat had saved his life a dozen times, but though she was dangerous and versatile like a knife, he didn't think of her that way. For one, Fran did not care for being thought of as a weapon, and two, knives were meant to be wielded, and even if he'd wished to, he could never control her. Fran was patient, loyal, but unyielding. A knife without a handle. She would, if pressed, do whatever was necessary, but if he guided her too forcefully, tried to manipulate her into doing something she did not wish to do, he would end up lacerated for his efforts.

They'd been sitting here nearly an hour, having slipped in with the rest of the fete's attendees and found their way into the palace's hidden passages using a map they'd procured in the city. Now, tucked away in a secluded alcove, they waited, memorizing the movements of the guards, ready to move when the opportunity presented itself. It wasn't unusual, in such a daring endeavor, to spend hours awaiting that perfect moment, but Balthier had always been more cautious, more _patient, _than most sky pirates.

He'd accounted for variables—guard patrols, traps, and numerous other obstacles that could land an unwary thief in a dungeon. He had even considered the possibility that the guards, whose number would be limited in the ballroom so as to avoid unnerving guests, would focus most of their resources guarding the lower floors, where the palace treasury was rumored to be. He'd planned this endeavor well, and he expected to find the treasure he sought before the night was out.

Of course, even the leading man couldn't be expected to account for _every _unknown. As he watched the corridor beyond his hiding place, he caught sight of a figure with pale blond hair darting into one of the peripheral hallways as a pair of guards passed by. The boy was perhaps seventeen, with wiry muscles and a thinness about his face that spoke of malnutrition. A street urchin, Balthier presumed. A very ambitious street urchin.

"It would appear someone else has gotten their hands on the palace blueprints," he said, quietly enough that the words barely stirred the air in front of his lips.

"Perhaps," Fran said in her lilting voice. Her burgundy eyes tracked the young thief, scrutinizing his movements. "Or perhaps he thought to take advantage of a lax watch."

"If that's the case, he's a fool. With so many distinguished guests in attendance, it comes as no surprise there would be a large force waiting on the lower floors."

"Oh?" Fran's lips tilted up at one corner. It was as close as her expression ever strayed toward fondness, and her voice carried a note of teasing. "And I suppose you never made such foolish mistakes when you were his age?"

Balthier rolled his eyes, making a dismissive noise. He'd made a few careless mistakes early on in his career—most sky pirates did. Really, he ought to give the boy more credit. Getting into the palace at all was a challenge. Even after weeks of careful planning, Balthier hadn't been entirely certain his forged invitation would be enough to get him past the gates. How had this boy managed it?

Before he could think on it further, the thief—hardly more than a child, though he'd developed a wiry sort of strength, likely from waving his cheap little sword around—paused at the intersection between two hallways. Balthier saw at once that there were guards posted near the mouth of the hallway who would see the boy the moment he poked his head around the corner. It was a miracle the little thief hadn't already been caught.

Balthier stilled, watching. He had no reason to care about the thief's success or failure—really, he should have been hoping the boy failed, as that meant one less person competing for the riches Balthier sought.. Yet . . . he'd been of age with this little thief when he'd stolen the _Strahl _out from under his father's nose. Perhaps it was nostalgia, but he found himself hoping the boy would evade the soldiers, if only to prove that there still existed thieves capable of transitioning from petty crime to the elaborate schemes Balthier indulged in.

Alas, it was not meant to be. The boy poked his head around the corner. At once, one of the guards nearby noticed him and called out for him to halt. The thief doubled back, sprinting down the hallway with the near-silent footsteps of someone who had spent much of their life making themselves invisible. Balthier sighed. The child might evade capture for a time, but in his haste, he would inevitably encounter another patrol and get arrested. _A wasted opportunity, _Balthier thought. _What a pity. And he __did__ so well to make it this deep into the palace. _

"We should move while the guards are distracted," Fran said. He nodded, nudging open the vent and stepping into the now-deserted corridor. Fran shadowed him, and together they moved down the hall until they neared another set of hidden rooms. They hadn't been able to extrapolate the precise location of the palace treasury, though they'd gathered that this was the proper floor, and that the treasury would not likely be on any maps, so they would have to poke around until they found something.

As they neared the next intersection, Balthier paused, listening for the telltale _clank _of armor or the muttering of soldiers bored with guard duty. When he heard nothing, he glanced at Fran, verifying that she'd sensed nothing out of the ordinary. She nodded. No one nearby, then.

Which, now that he thought about it, was a little odd. A quarter of an hour ago, this place had been crawling with guards—it still was, judging by the distant footfalls. But the noise seemed concentrated in one distant area. _At least the __little __thief had the courtesy to clear us a path, _he thought, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He and Fran moved through several more corridors unmolested, then paused as they heard the clank of armor up ahead. Without a word between them, they slid into an indent in the wall, hiding themselves from sight until the patrol had passed. Balthier waited—caution was not a hallmark of sky pirates, but Balthier took pride in not adhering entirely to the stereotypes of his peers.

When he heard nothing after fifteen heartbeats, he started to move forward, only to have Fran pull him back. He glanced up, puzzled, then followed Fran's gaze.

The thief from before had returned, evidently having managed to elude his pursuers. That alone was enough to catch Balthier's attention. _He __must have drawn__ the guards to the opposite end of the floor, then doubled back knowing he'd have a clear path. _"Clever boy."

"You approve?"

"I always appreciate good work," he said lightly, thinking. He'd been traveling with Fran for years now, practically since he'd fled Archades, and they had always regarded one another as equals. But the boy . . . well, he wasn't quite on Balthier's level—so few people were—but the potential there was tantalizing. _If I could mold him into something more refined, he could become a useful tool. _"We follow," he decided, already trailing after him.

The boy paused at the end of the hallway, face thoughtful, then continued on. Curious, Balthier stepped out into the open. He'd spent the better part of the last three days going over the maps he'd collected from the various informants in the city. Since few of them showed more than a few secret passages or rooms, Balthier had been forced to extrapolate, based on experience, where such hidden rooms were most likely to be. He'd expected to wander for a few hours, searching, but this little thief seemed to know precisely where he was going. Another curious detail.

He wound around the corner, following close enough to avoid losing sight of the boy, but not so close as to be immediately noticeable. When the thief paused in the middle of the hallway and knelt in front of a pattern on the floor, Balthier frowned. _What is he up to __now__? _

A faint teal glow emanated from the pattern, pulsing twice before dissipating. The boy stood, shoving what appeared to be a small stone into his pocket before continuing down the corridor. Balthier followed at a discreet distance, pausing as he reached the pattern. It was a picture of a lion, but rather than simply being painted on, it had been etched into the floor itself. "What could this be?" he asked, crouching beside the signet.

"The magicks it bears are faint," Fran said. "It's as if that the stone the child was carrying was meant to infuse it with power enough to activate."

"Any idea what it does?"

Fran shook her head. "I suspect our thief will know."

"He _has _proven himself more clever than I expected." He rose, walking quickly to catch up to the boy, but by the time he reached the end of the hallway, the thief had disappeared. "Fran, can you hear anything?"

"He's this way," she said, leading him down several short corridors before reaching a dead end. There she paused, ears twitching as if they'd led her astray. After a moment, however, she stepped forward, walking over to an intricately carved vent set into the wall. Balthier padded after her with silent footsteps.

A faint light glowed beyond the vent, identical in color to the pulse of light that had come from the lion signet minutes ago. Beyond that, he could see movement—the thief, poking around beyond the wall.

By silent agreement, he and Fran waited outside until the boy found what Balthier assumed to be a secret door. There was a scraping rumble, like large sections of rock being moved. It repeated again a moment later, followed by silence as the bluish light beyond the vent faded. Unfortunately, that meant the traditional way in had likely been deactivated. Fortunately, Balthier had thought to bring tools, and within half a minute, he'd worked the vent cover off and eased himself through the opening.

There was, indeed, a secret room hidden beyond the vent. Balthier paused, considering whether he ought to reattach the vent cover, then deciding against it. True, that meant a guard might notice it and get curious, but if things got dicey, it was an escape route he didn't want to waste time trying to reopen.

"Now to find our way into the treasury," he said, walking the length of the small room. He saw a pair of wall panels that looked suspiciously like doors to his right. _It's like the architects weren't even trying, _he thought, shaking his head. "There will be a switch nearby," he said, running his fingertips along the edge of the panels.

It took longer than he'd expected to find the switch. It wasn't near the doors themselves but set into the wall behind him and concealed among the elaborate trim. Hardly an efficient design, but when Fran hit the switch, the wall panel separated, the door-shaped pattern sliding free of the main wall and sinking down into the floor. Balthier stepped over it, Fran right behind him, and entered a large rectangular room overflowing with statues, crates, jewelry, and other objects of value. And in the middle of it all stood the very thief they'd followed here just as one of the statue's heads opened up to reveal a lump of glowing orange crystal.

_Magicite, _he thought, pleased. _And __a very pure sample __at that. Looks like this little adventure was worth the effort after all. _"Quite a performance," he said, stepping into the room.

The thief whirled around, magicite in hand. When he saw Balthier standing there, he drew back, half-raising his hands as if to fight. "Who are you?"

Balthier arched an eyebrow. "I play the leading man. Who else? Fran, the magicite."

The viera stepped out from his shadow, circling the thief once before holding out her hand. "Now then, I'll take that."

Something like fear flickered in the thief's eyes. "No you won't. I found it—it's mine."

_How . . . naïve. _"And when I take it from you, it'll be mine." He looked at the boy expectantly, but rather than doing the sensible thing and acknowledging he was outnumbered, the little thief hesitated, glancing about as if looking for something to bludgeon them with. Honestly. _This_ was the boy who'd stolen into the palace, lured the guards away, and found his way into the treasury? How could someone be so quick-witted yet lack the wherewithal to know when he'd lost? _He's young, _Balthier reminded himself. _He may be good at improvising, but he's not yet learned to think things through. We'll have to work on that. _

He frowned at his own thoughts. If they hadn't set their sights on the same prize, the little thief might well have succeeded. To make it this far, he'd have either needed very precise information or a talent for solving problems. There was potential there, assuming the boy could avoid getting thrown into a dungeon long enough to establish himself. It wasn't as if Balthier wanted the boy as an apprentice—that was far too much responsibility—but he was beginning to understand the boy's value. Young, naive, but with a keen mind, he would be capable of carrying out complex tasks, yet not likely to notice he was being manipulated. Sharp, but easy to control. The perfect knife. Balthier's lips twitched into a dangerous smile.

Voices. Balthier's eyes snapped to the source of the noise, a cascade of shouts and commands. A thunderous rumble made the palace walls tremble. _What in Ivalice is going on out there? _

Before he could ponder on that further, a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye made him turn back. The thief had disappeared—most likely through the doors that were just swinging shut on the other side of the room. _Damn. _"Exit stage right," he muttered.

Beside him, Fran made a noise of discontent. "The gods do not smile on us."

"I like it better that way." He started for the door, his mind made up. He would let the boy hold onto the stone for now, and in the meantime, Balthier would figure out exactly how much use he could get out of his little knife.


End file.
